Measure of A Man
by LadyFangs
Summary: He owed his life to two men: the father he'd never known, and the man who changed his world forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Dislaimer:** _I do not own, I love. _

**Measure of a Man**

**Pike/Kirk**

Starfleet - home to directives and discipline. Where leaders were made followers and the spoiled children of rich diplomats and politicians roamed the heavens with false ideas of grandeur and godhood.

It wasn't for him.

Jim Kirk liked his life and the live-and-let-die ways and the freedom that being a loner gave. "TEAMWORK" was a one-way ticket to martyrdom and the only person he wanted to look out for was himself. The universe didn't give a rat's ass about Jim Kirk. It had seen fit throw him every fucked-up situation that life could bring.

Starfleet killed George Kirk. And empty platitudes like "peace and intergalactic unity" were the excuses his mother used to cruise off-world so she wouldn't have to deal with the reality that her family was as dysfunctional as the ideals of the service that gave her a paycheck every month. His uncle and primary guardian was a hateful drunk who tried his damndest to be lord over some_one_ since he couldn't control the some_things _of his life (mainly that of keeping a fucking job, the sorry bastard). The one person Jim did look up to, his older brother Sam, had left him abandoned in the grips of the devil. Kirk had been made an unwilling sacrifice.

With a swift head-jerk he downed the fifth (sixth?) straight shot of Jack, slamming the small glass down on the bar slab and letting the liquor burn down his throat to replace his increasingly dark thoughts with those of what - or _who -_ he would do next. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his sharp blue eyes scanned the scene before him, visually cruising the plethora of able bodies around - male, female and more than a few off-worlders.

Sex was sex in all incarnations - it wasn't the _who_, it was the _feeling,_ and most humanoid species tended to prefer the same methods - with some notable exceptions, of course. _Pansexual_ was the term used now, replacing the "gay, straight, transgender, bi-sexual" labels of old. Nowadays lines were so blurred no one really thought much about who was what anyway. Some species reproduced asexually and others had more than two variations on gender. Kirk had never cared much for labels.

Rocky's Pub was a tiny shack in the ass end of Nowhere, Iowa. It always held a steady flow of Federation people, mostly from the nearby shipyards for the non-indigent where Starfleet built its vessels. The federation had chosen this place mainly for its ample supply of able-bodied blue-collar workers searching for an earned wage. Sure, one could live off all the social programs now in place, but, in this part of the country at least, people still liked to put their hands and their heads to use to at least _feel _like they earned it. The Federation's new utopia wasn't made for the average man - just for some liberal elites who felt that pity and handouts were better than hand-ups.

Contrary to his rap sheet, Kirk was NOT an idiot. In fact, if all his previous arresting officers would have taken the time to look deeper in his personal file, they would have seen his genius-level IQ scores and all of the invitations for him study at the planet's most prestigious universities, including Starfleet, which he'd tossed aside. Still, at some point, when folks in authority, including dear Uncle Frank, had told you you weren't shit, would never _be_ shit, and shouldn't expect shit - even the strongest of minds started to believe a tiny bit of it after a time. Frank never hit him - that wasn't his style. Not that it mattered much anyway. Physical wounds always healed. But psychological ones were forever.

Still, he was a KIRK. And that came with more than its fair share of defiance. And, whenever James Kirk focused his attentions on something - good things almost always followed.

And at that moment, he saw something good approaching the bar as he downed his sixth (seventh?) shot of Jack. A tall, slender brown-skinned beauty was wending her way through the crowd, a megawatt smile spreading across a pretty face with high cheekbones.

The bright red uniform gave her allegiance away immediately. _Starfleet fresh meat_, he thought wryly as he turned to watch her order.

The music was loud and thumping and she had to yell over it - giving him ample time to watch her lips work as the vowels and consonants slipped out.

She'd definitely do for the night.

"I'd like a Clamidian fire tea, three Budweiser classics two Cardassian sunrises and-

"-the Slush-O mixes are good two," the bartender offered at the momentary pause.

"A Slush-O mix too - thank you."

His attention moved from the sight of gorgeous brown legs in the calf-length black boots and a little skirt - and he took the momentary pause in conversation to make his entrance.

"That's a lot of drinks for one woman."

She shot him a glance and turned back around to the front of the bar.

"And a shot of Jack - straight up!" she yelled to the nodding head of the bartender, who was busy mixing her order.

"Make that two - her shot's on me," he offered.

"Her shot's on _her_."

_Feisty. _This was one of those rare circumstanceswhere the object of his attentions put up a fight, but that was good too - he enjoyed the thrill of the chase just as much and it made the eventual conquest that much sweeter…and it WAS looking to be rather sweet.

"Don't you want to at least know my name before you reject me?" he tried, switching tactics to account for the unexpected, yet welcome turn of events.

"I'm fine without it."

"You _are_ fine without it."

At the smile and shake of her head at his insistence, he grinned. She was even more appealing than he'd first thought and the fact she continued to resist his advances spurred him on.

"It's Uhura."

He mentally rolled the moniker over in his mind, letting the vowels and syllables slip around his tongue before he continued his teasing. His mind was being drawn away from between her legs and focusing instead on the intensity of their back-and-forth. She was turning him on - intellectual foreplay was even better than physical stimulation - especially when the one doing the stimulating was as _stimulating_ as her.

"So, you're a cadet, you're stunning, what's your focus?" He shifted around to face her directly, angling his body in a way that he could stall her quicker should she attempt to leave.

"Xenolinguistics - you have no idea what that means."

Before she had even finished her sentence, his brain had already deconstructed the word according to root, suffix, prefix and order of origin and he was quick to the reply:

"The study of alien languages, morphology, syntax…" his voice dropped low as he leaned in closer, looking her in the eye.

"It means you have a talented tongue."

Seconds later, he was getting his ass handed to him by four sets of fists - the need to fight took over him and a sudden burst of adrenaline rendered him momentarily sober after the first hit connected to his jaw. The pain felt _good, _and even though he was outnumbered - he'd be damned if he didn't take a few of those sons of bitches down with him.

**.**

**.**

"You all right, son?"

He was splayed out on a table - white lights flashing in front of his eyes as the room slowly stopped spinning and ultimately came to a halt. His head pounded, and the club - formerly filled with music - was now much quieter, save for the sound of a broom and the tell-tale chinks of broken glass on the floor.

He winced in pain as she slowly slid down the corner of the table and rolled over - placing his feet back onto the floor. It was a minute before he focused enough to look up.

The man who had spoken was tall and rugged looking, dressed in the dark grey stiffly-pressed uniform of the service. The grey at his temples and the wrinkles around his eyes showed his age - but that was about it.

An authority figure.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Kirk grunted, bending down to dust himself off. "Who the hell are you?"

"Captain Christopher Pike."

Starfleet. As far as he was concerned, they had nothing to talk about.

He could feel his eye already beginning to swell and knew there'd be some nasty bruises in the morning. Looking around him at the scene of overturned chairs, broken glass and spilled drinks, he searched for a napkin to stop the blood from pouring out his nose. If it was broken, it wouldn't be the first time.

The uniformed man tilted his head to the side and studied him, as Kirk ignored him, turning his head and spotting a napkin on the nearby bar counter. Walking over he grabbed it. Spying his jacket on the floor nearby, he bent down and picked it up too. _Where is my wallet?_

On the table he'd just come from. As he approached, he ignored the single set of eyes burning into the back of his skull. He breathed deep and a sharp pang hit him, making him gasp aloud and forcing him into a chair while he tried to collect himself.

"Your father didn't believe in no-win scenarios." At the mention of his father, Kirk looked up sharply and snorted.

"Yeah. He sure learned that lesson, now didn't he?"

Depends on how you define victory. You're here, aren't you?"

At the obvious appeal to his perceived familial loyalty, Kirk laughed. It came out as a hoarse, choked snicker.

"Look Pike, I'm not interested in what you're trying to sell."

Pike took a seat in the chair across from him, resolve etched across his features. Kirk stared back, not backing down from his own position.

They looked at each other long and hard - each set in stubborn silence. Realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere, Pike sighed.

"Look kid. I looked up your file. You think just because your daddy died and life dealt you a bad hand you can just give up? Or do you stop being stupid long enough to believe you were meant for something more? Maybe you're satisfied being the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest."

"Maybe I love it," he shot back, ignoring the sting Pike's words had made on impact.

"Your father was captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved 800 lives. I dare you to do better. Shipyard, 0800 hours tomorrow."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Pike rose and turned to leave. The retort died on Kirk's lips, as the captain exited without casting a second-glance back at him - leaving him alone to look at the sagging structure and signs of destruction around him.

Was this really all there was ever going to be?

**.**

**.**

The shipyard buzzed with early-morning activity as crews arrived to begin clocking in for work. In the foreground, a large, looming skeleton of steel and fiberglass hung suspended by huge anti-grav units between rigs and cranes. It was far from glamorous, but the cadets and new recruits entering the small shuttlecraft in its shadow knew what it would one day be - and most of them aspired to be on it.

The Captain stood outside the craft, checking off the names as the bodies entered, one by one. By any of Starfleet's standards, this trip and been productive: he'd brought along the highest performing freshmen of their class and they'd paid off - He'd gotten one of the best doctors in the Southeast [if this is McCoy] whose professional resume virtually ensured him a place aboard a starship - if he could sober up enough and pass a psych exam. Two shipyard workers had signed up - both were heavily skilled in engineering and engine assembly - skills that Starfleet desperately needed, as engineers were always in much demand and short supply, and there were even a couple fresh-faced recent high school grads with high GPA's - alpha crop, looking to escape the corn fields and find refuge beyond the clouds.

Still, as he checked off the last name, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret that the one element that made all the cogs in the wheel work together, was missing.

_I should have tried harder, _he thought ruefully_, _turning to head into the cockpit of the shuttle.

Just then, the loud popping of an engine throttle and marked the approach of a vehicle. He turned and squinted in the morning sunlight, seeing a motorcycle roar into the gates in their direction.

The corners of his lips turned up as the figure dismounted, and tossed his keys to an astonished-looking worker passing by.

"I can graduate in four years you say?" Kirk asked as he walked up to Pike, looking the older man dead in the eye.

"I'll do it in three."

* * *

_**Author's Note: **This is something I've been working on for a while, and it may also be my last full-length Star Trek story for a few months. My muse is presently leading me in another direction. There are some things I do need to mention before anyone reads any further. I wrote this story to reflect a REAL relationship between two men. It does denote a male/male relationship. All too often, stories on this issue revolve around sex, and rarely get more in depth. During the physical act of coupling, one of the male characters is often feminized and becomes something other than the way that character was originally presented. I wrote this as a challenge to myself. I dared myself to do better. Here is my effort. For those interested, you can catch my newest effort over in the XMen Movie forum. It's called "In His Skin" and features Storm and Sabertooth. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

He almost quit the first day. But of all the negative nouns used to in reference to the name James T. Kirk, "quitter" was not one of them.

He'd left Iowa without a dime in his bank account and nothing but the clothes on his back. He hadn't told Frank about his plans (not that he ever had in any situation) and Winona would find out soon enough, he figured (he'd stopped calling her "mom" long ago).

Upon arrival to campus, he was told to call the folks in the dark uniforms "sir," a title he held in the ultimate contempt. There was added insult when it came from people younger than him, smaller than him, and far less intelligent (he knew) than he was.

And less than four hours after getting off the shuttle, he got into his first fight. It began when he was assigned a room, a roommate whom he had yet to see, and a set of uniforms, plain underwear and a basic hygiene kit. He had set his stuff down, and turned to head out the door to look at the campus.

In his black leather jacket and well-worn jeans, he stood out against the sea of red and black. Still, most of the people and other beings going back and forth ignored him.

Until.

He had just stopped in his tracks to admire a particularly long (and green) set of legs when something collided with him from the back - knocking him face-first into the pavement.

"Welcome to Starfleet, _cupcake_." The sound of a chorus of laughter met his ears and, almost as if on auto-pilot, he raised himself from the ground, dusted himself off, and with lightning-quick reflexes, hauled of a punch that impacted with the jaw of its intended target.

The fight was on.

It took four armed Starfleet officers to pull them apart and Kirk was promptly dragged off to the holding cells in the campus security office and tossed unceremoniously onto the floor of an empty one at the end of a long, gray hallway.

There was a dull hum as a laser field delineating the line he couldn't cross switched on.

Now that he'd had time to calm down, Kirk sat down on the hard steel bench in the room, and rested his forearms on his knees as he hung his head.

Great. Just great…he'd come all the way to San Francisco on a pipe dream just to wind up back in a fuckin' jail cell.

**.**

**.**

Pike was in his office, filling out last-minute forms on the new recruits when his communicator chimed with an incoming call. Reaching over, he grabbed it and flicked it open with a jerk of his wrist.

"Pike here."

The longer he listened the quicker his mood began to sour. Rising from his chair, he cut the informant off.

"I'm on my way. Keep him there. Let him stew."

He strode out of his office and out of the building to walk around the campus and get some air. He was pissed. Angrier than he should have been and it took him by surprise - normally, he didn't get this riled up - especially over people he didn't know.

But this kid - he was special. He came from different stock and if there was one thing Pike couldn't stand to see - it was wasted potential.

And Jim Kirk had plenty of it.

Starfleet had been keeping tabs on the younger since he was in grade school. When he graduated, the service extended him an invitation to join their ranks - not because his mother was a highly-decorated Commander (Winona was an expert in her field of Communications Engineering and had several commendations for valor) or because his father's name was etched in the list of some of the greatest heroes (The Kelvin had become standard tactical study and was even the inspiration for field simulators for command-track cadets). No. All that wouldn't have helped Kirk at all because his personal record was piss-poor. Outlandish conduct, aversion to authority, hell, by the time he'd become a sophomore in high school, he'd been arrested a dozen times - no; the _real_ reason why Starfleet had wanted him so badly was because of his test scores.

At or near perfect on every standardized test he'd ever taken. A genius. And Starfleet could use an intellect as sharp as his.

There was also a sense of loyalty. Pike had served aboard the Kelvin. He was one of the 800 that made it off the ship alive that fateful day. He had watched from the pilot's seat of the shuttlecraft as what remained of the Kelvin crashed into the mysterious tentacles of that thing that had attacked them.

He had stood silent at the memorial service for the Kelvin as the widow of Captain Robau tearfully accepted her late husband's medals and commendations. And he, along with the other 800 survivors, watched as a uniform-clad Lieutenant Winona Kirk, holding a tiny infant in her arms, her face set in unflinching stone, accepted George Kirk's. It was silent, save for the sniffles of Captain Robau's wife, and the plaintive cries of the living reminder of Commander Kirk's sacrifice.

Twenty-two years later brought him once again before Kirk's legacy. And this time, it was because of loyalty - for the sacrifice of one life for 800 others - that Pike knew he couldn't leave Iowa without him. For Pike, upon seeing George Kirk's boy for the first time, could tell there was a fighter's spirit in the kid - a diamond in an extremely rough shell, but once polished and smooth, it could shine brighter than a thousand stars in the galaxy.

He'd vouched for the younger Kirk - getting him into Starfleet Academy on his recommendation.

Which is why he was so furious now. It wasn't some misplaced sense of pity. No - it was the feeling that if something didn't change, James Kirk would never have the chance to live up to his potential.

Starfleet was, after all, a humanitarian and peacekeeping armada. But its first goal was to save lives. And souls. Leave no man behind.

Now, the anger having passed, and his steely determination rising back to the forefront, Pike turned and headed across the quad toward the back entry gates to the campus where the security stations were located.

**.**

**.**

He didn't know how long he'd sat staring at the drab, gray wall but the sound of approaching footsteps and the whirr releasing the force field holding him in the tiny room alerted him he was no longer alone.

Rising quickly, he looked up just as Captain Pike entered.

"Come on, Kirk."

Hearing the edge in the Captain's voice and recognizing the command, he followed behind the man as they left the cell. After Pike finished signing him out and they had left the building, Kirk felt compelled to speak up.

"Look, Pike -"

The older man turned to face him abruptly.

"You will address me as _Captain_. Do I make myself clear, cadet?"

Startled, Kirk could only utter a "yes."

"Yes WHAT, Cadet Kirk?"

"Yes—yes, sir," he mumbled, slightly intimidated by the anger he saw plainly across Pike's features.

"Listen here, and listen well. I saved your ass today. You want to go back to your crappy life in Iowa? This is your first and _only_ pass, mister. The next un-sanctioned fist you throw will see you out of here so fast your head'll be facing the wrong way around! Is that clear, CADET?"

"Yes, sir," he responded quietly.

He felt Pike staring at him a few seconds longer, and then the older man turned and began walking again. He followed until they arrived at his dorm.

"Meet me in the gym at 0500 hours. If you're late - you're gone. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," he said, his voice firmer now as he made the attempt to stand up a little straighter. He'd be damned if he wound up back in Iowa. He wanted to stay. He'd do anything to stay. And if he had to add "sir" to his vocabulary and stay his fists, he'd do it. And when Jim Kirk put his mind to it, he could do anything.

**.**

**.**

After the scene with Pike, Kirk trudged up the stairs to his room and activated the entrance code to his room. The doors swooshed open and he walked in, taking note of the almost identical stack of uniforms and a hygiene kit on the other bed on the other side of the room. It seemed his roommate had arrived.

The whooshing sound of a sonic flush tuned him to the fact that someone was in the bathroom and he turned around just as the doors slid open.

"Hiya, Bones!" he said, cheerily slapping the still-clearly drunk older doctor on the back as he stumbled out of the bathroom, shaking off his dirty coat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Measure of a Man**

**Chapter 3**

Pike kicked his ass every morning for three months straight, though, the good _Captain_ would never call it that.

"You need to learn to defend yourself," he called as he bounced away seconds after landing a series of blows that had Kirk flat on his ass.

"Seems like you like that position." Pike chuckled as Kirk rolled on the floor, trying to pull his body up.

_Fuck you, _he thought, but did not say it. One morning he'd let it slip only to find himself slammed up against the wall with the captain's foot inches from his balls. He wanted to protect his manhood, thank _you_ very much.

Seeing Pike relax gave him an opening and he sprang up and charged, knocking the older man down.

It only worked for about two seconds before he was being lifted bodily in the air and slammed back down on the mat. The impact with the semi-hard fabric made his back sting - that shit _hurt_.

"Fighting like that means you'll continually get your butt whipped. You can't win fights lying on your back."

This was the beginning of month four. And Jim had become gradually angrier and angrier. What the fuck _was_ this? Some kind of macho match? Pike wasn't his daddy, and he wasn't even under his command. Kirk didn't know why he continued to allow the captain to subject him to this. And he made up his mind at that moment that it wouldn't continue.

"Yeah, well I bet _you_ do."

He smirked with satisfaction at having landed the verbal hit as he got back up and turned to walk out. Pike's voice goaded him.

"You have no idea what it means to be a man. You're just a child looking for attention - you want to quit when it's too hard. You don't even like to try because you're afraid to fail. You're mad at the world – you don't see that the world doesn't care and the only person you hurt is yourself. Stay like that, and you won't make it. You need to grow up, Kirk. Maybe I made a mistake with you."

Pike brushed past him, not looking back as he left the gym and Kirk just stood there.

_I won't feel guilty. I won't feel guilty. Fuck him._

_**.**_

_**.**_

Kirk skipped classes and spent the rest of the day in his room, mulling over how his life had changed in three months. Three months ago he'd been alone and lonely, spending too much time in that pissy bar in Iowa, paying for drinks by sweeping up the place. No money. No job, just wandering from place to place. Now, he had money. Starfleet tested him, put him through his paces. For the first time, he _had_ to work to be good - because there was always someone better.

The competition fed his ego - the academic rigor stimulated his mind. So what was it? He was "happy" here…wasn't he?

Even Bones had progressed. No longer was he the same drunk that Kirk had first met in Iowa. No - that hadn't lasted past the first month, when the doctors at Starfleet finally put a laser regenerator back in McCoy's hand and put him to work in the medical center. It seemed there was nowhere Bones was happier than among the living beings, scientific cadavers and body parts of different alien races. He was a surgeon - a highly successful one at that, before a nasty divorce took his practice and his daughter away, but even he - who'd lost so much - had found at least _some_ peace of mind here.

The doctor had turned his attention to his roommate.

"You want to talk about it, Jim?" He'd tried at different points in time over a bottle of Jim Beam and the not-quite–legal Orion garden herb they'd cultivated in their rooms.

Jim had taken the first swig.

"Nope. Nothin' to talk about."

And that's where the conversation would end. They'd finish off the bottle, get sufficiently blown on the weekend and hit the nearby club scene that catered to cadets and off-worlders.

He'd be drunk as hell from Friday night to early Sunday evening - but Monday through Friday was an entirely different matter. In class he was determined to be the best. Most of the time he was, but when he wasn't, it was only that much more to strive for. Still, he knew—it wasn't the best he could do. He heard Pike's words in his mind at those times: "I dare you to do better." And he would.

In his nightmares old wounds were reopened, old hurts made fresh, and they followed him no matter where he went.

He awoke in the middle of the night, the sheets soaked with sweat. He turned to look at Bones - snoring away in the other bed. He hadn't moved.

The room felt too small, too stifling, and Kirk moved off the bed, dressing quickly but silently in his black t-shirt and sweatpants, socks and boots. He needed to get out of there. He needed air.

**.**

**.**

Pike was restless. He couldn't sleep. What did he have to do to get through to that damn kid? He'd tried giving a hand up only for it to get bitten. He'd tried "tough love" only for it to be rejected. Kirk had become his obsession.

All the elements were there. The mind, the spirit - but it was untamed and unfocused. The anger was fine - Kirk wasn't the only one with baggage - but he still hadn't learned how to channel that anger.

In a way, Pike felt like he was failing. If it wasn't for the boy's father he wouldn't be here. He owed George Kirk. He owed Jim Kirk.

Call it survivor's guilt. At least, that was the excuse he felt more comfortable in accepting.

Rising from his own bed, knowing sleep would continue to elude him this evening, Pike dressed down in a grey Starfleet t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, socks and shoes.

He needed to clear his mind. He needed to go for a walk.

**.**

**.**

It was still dark, and a thick fog had settled across the green. The buildings stood like silent shadows and it was quiet. At 0300 hours there was a bitter chill in the air. None of it much mattered, as Kirk sat on a bench at the far end on the quad, staring at nothing.

What was it he was missing? Try as he might, he couldn't wrap his mind around it. There was a wall standing between him and his breakthrough.

He'd been on an emotional roller coaster - that much he was able to recognize. The fact he _felt _anything at all should be considered a small miracle, considering he'd been spiritually dead for the last ten years. The fact that it had been the captain that did make him _feel _made him wonder why it was that man - when there had been _many_ others who had tried the same tactics and failed.

And beneath those bursts of fiery emotion - there _was_ a reason. But not one he cared to even touch or look at. So it stayed there, unacknowledged. And he preferred it that way. So he moved on to the other things holding him back. Those were easier to discern.

His flamboyant outward persona aside, he _did_ have the capacity for self-examination and he did it more often than he'd ever cared to admit - though he _had_ to say this was one of the few times he chosen to do it still sober.

There was a wall. A carefully erected wall against emotions that could leave him could see it. He could feel it, but he couldn't get past it and he wouldn't touch it.

And yet, there on the other side of his wall was a figure, walking toward him … wait-

He blinked rapidly, re-focusing on the physical scene as he watched a lone figure approach, getting closer and closer. Quickly he stood to attention as Pike emerged from the fog.

**.**

**.**

He hadn't expected to see anyone outside at this hour. He'd thought he'd be completely alone, but as he walked the familiar paths that zigzagged across the quad, breaking it into patches of green, he saw a shadowy figure seated on a far bench.

_Keep walking,_ his inner voice told him, but the figure looked familiar and as he got closer, he saw who it was.

Kirk was seated, staring off into space, his arms on his thighs. He seemed oblivious to the cold and as Pike looked upon the still figure there was a niggling thought that he just might be. He saw him blink rapidly and then rise on his approach.

Pike raised his hand.

"You don't have to get up. I was just passing through."

"Yeah, well … I needed to go anyway."

Kirk turned to leave, but something in his demeanor made Pike call out to him.

"Hey, kid. Come with me." There was hesitation in Kirk's eyes.

"Is that an order, sir?"

"It's an order, or an offer. Your choice," he replied, turning to retrace the familiar path back to the officer's quarters.

Soon he had a companion, and the two men walked quietly through the fog.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. This story was edited by SpockLikesCats_


	4. Chapter 4

**Measure of A Man**

**Chapter 4**

Kirk stepped through the swooshing doors and took a look around. He'd expected Pike's quarters to be Spartan, much like the man himself. Instead, it was decorated with all kinds of art and ornaments from off-world. It certainly wasn't what he expected.

Pike left him at the door to pull a decanter and two glasses from a mini- bar situated in a corner of the living room.

"Shot?"

"Uh,yeah. Thanks." He said distractedly as he looked around.

"Take a seat, Kirk." The captain handed him a tall shot glass and sat down on a sofa chair. Kirk took up residents on the opposite wall, downing the offering quickly.

It scorched his esophagus like liquid fire as it made its way down, causing his eyes to tear and gasping coughs to erupt.

"What _is_ that?" He jumped up and the empty glass hit the floor.

"THAT-" Pike said dryly, sipping his own still-full glass "is Thlaxx fire-root liquor. It's made from the roots of the Thlaxx tree on Vulcan. The roots are forged in fire- that's why it burns. Sometimes, we all need a little bit of pain to bring us back to reality."

"So I see," Kirk said, not quite seeing at all.

"No you don't. And don't pretend you do. You have a habit of that, you know. You don't have to know everything. You don't have to bullshit everybody and try to carry it all. You're STILL a mortal man even though you may not think so. So, you want to talk about it?"

Pike waited, watching his charge carefully. For the first time, he saw something other than anger and rebellion spread across Kirk's features.

He didn't move, but waited to see what would come next.

Fear, anger, and finally abashment washed over Kirk in waves, until finally he was left only with disappointment and sadness- and for the life of him, he didn't know why. Or rather, he did.

Deflated, and overwhelmed, he could only bury his head in his hands in misery.

To his credit, Pike didn't bother him, nor did he offer any type of verbal consolation. Instead, he just let him be.

_It was enough. He was hurting, now. His eyes burned with tears that wouldn't fall. It wasn't until this point he'd even believed he still had the capacity to cry. As a child Frank and tormented him ruthlessly for crying- calling him weak for it. The tears had eventually dried up and hardened him._

_Now, though, they were there. He just refused to expose them. He was trying to slow his heartbeat, and regroup. He didn't notice when the Captain moved his chair to sit by him._

_The seat beside him sank down with an unseen weight._

"_It's okay, kid. And you will be too."_ The words were firm, but laced with an underlying conviction in them, in HIM, that managed to stir the seeds of the first REAL feelings he'd had in years – the reassurance that he wasn't a complete fuck up. The relief that someone actually cared how he felt.

When he was finally calm, he felt better than he had in years. And exhausted. He tried to get up to leave but Pike stopped him.

With a glance at the antique clock mounted on the wall, and appraising Kirk's worn-out state, Pike rose, to retreat to his own room. Opening the closet he grabbed a spare blanket and a pillow from his bed. Walking back out, he silently handed them to Jim.

Kirk nodded his thanks, and retreated back to the sofa to settle in as Pike watched from his bedroom doorway.

As a Captain of a starship, he'd been battle tested and had seen human grief and tragedy in all its forms. But with great responsibility came sacrifices.

No kids, no family. Relationships? What man didn't? Still, he was alone. In some ways, this kid reminded him of himself in his youth - quick to anger and hard to break, with an intelligence that led him to recklessness. This kid touched a part of him that had been numbed by decades in the service: years of seeing pestilence, famine, mass rape, and worse. Rarely did he get attached. However, with Kirk, it was a different matter entirely, he told himself.

He owed it to the kid's father to protect and nurture him. It was the right thing to do. The lies comforted him for the moment, and his mind accepted (but not quite fully believed) that answer.

He cast a final glance at Kirk stretched out across his sofa, then retreated to his own room and closed the door, turning off the light and eventually falling back asleep.

**.**

**.**

The next morning, Kirk woke with a stuffy nose and puffy eyes. He squinted to read the digital dial on the watch affixed to his wrist.

0515.

Shit!

He sat up on the couch and shook his head to try and wake himself up. Rising, he walked across the living room and past the coffee table to knock on the door to the adjacent room. The doors swooshed open and he peered in to see a neatly made bed.

"Crap." He said aloud, turning to run out of the apartment and down the long hall.

Pike couldn't have …

As soon as he entered the gym he stopped jogging to catch his breath.

"You're 30 minutes late, Cadet."

He looked up to see the captain standing over him and quickly straightened up.

"Yes, sir."

Pike eyed him hard, and then moved away.

"At ease."

Taking a deep breath, Kirk started, "Captain Pike, I apologize for-"

"Apologize for what, son? For being human? We all have our breaking points. The question is how we go about putting the pieces of our lives back together. You've done well here, Kirk. Only you can get yourself to where you want to be. The question is, will you allow someone to help you?"

Pike stared at him, his face a mask but his eyes warm and open.

"Yes, sir." Kirk spoke quietly, feeling a new sense of resolve settle within him.

Pike stuck out his hand and Kirk took it. "Then let's get started. Now, _this_ is a proper defense…"

This time was different, as Pike began putting Kirk through his paces - dodge, tuck, roll, hit. Soon, they fell into an easy rhythm and were still at it an hour later when the gym slowly began to fill with other officers and cadets, starting up their own morning routines, ignoring the mentor and mentee hard at work in the corner.

* * *

_***Author's Note:** Thank you for everyone who is reading and reviewing. This story is NOT my norm, so I thank you for coming along with me on this journey. The story is already written, has been complete for well over a month. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Measure of a Man**

**Chapter 5**

By the end of his first semester, Kirk could honestly say he'd come a long way. Gone was the surly man-child he had been, and in his place—well…he was nowhere near perfect. But he was getting there.

"I swear, Jim - if we go to one more bar I'ma throw up on you," Bones complained as they walked down the "strip" - the line of clubs and bars that was a favorite of Starfleet personnel in the midnight hours of a long, extended weekend. Final exams had just ended and students and officers had quickly left the campus, leaving only those who were assigned extended duty (in the case of officers), and cadets with no place else to go.

It didn't bother Kirk. He was used to being alone but, this time, he wasn't lonely.

Bones had opted to stay behind too and the two men decided to enjoy the nightlife and the free time they had for the next two weeks.

Kirk had earned some credits by working as Pike's assistant in advanced defensive arts (he had learned that all those 0500 sparring sessions had helped him accelerate through the first and second level classes - go figure), and he couldn't help but feel good.

It had been a great five months. But his good mood was tempered when he thought of his own personal struggles. It'd been hard. In many ways he knew he'd still carry some of the battle scars of his childhood, but he also knew there were some people he needed to thank for helping him through.

Captain Pike had seen the good in him when he hadn't even seen it for himself, and Kirk knew the effort the captain had taken with him and for him. Long months together - both in work and in recreation - had created a sort of bond between them that went deeper than mentor/mentee...and maybe…something else that Jim chose not to dwell too long on, because of Pike's seniority to him.

And then there was Bones.

Kirk considered himself a loner, and so did the doctor, but they had been thrust together and he had come to enjoy and respect the curmudgeonly doctor's company. Beneath the rough interior was a heart of gold, and whenever Kirk had found himself wandering off the beaten path, Bones was always there to snap him back - or at least, keep him from getting into too much trouble.

Still, the night was young as they made their way inside the Blue Parakeet - one of Kirk's favorite bars because it served Thlaxx fire root liquor. The club was dark and filled with smoke and loud, thumping music. They weaved their way through the crush of bodies and toward the bar, where Kirk spied a gorgeous and immediately recognizable face. He'd seen her occasionally across campus, but hadn't really made another attempt. It wasn't that he had romantic feelings toward her, but there was another motive that drove him. A need - he wanted to show her that, if nothing else, he _was_ a changed man.

"Hey there, _Uhura," h_e called, pulling up to the bar, Bones next to him as she turned to face him.

She looked him up and down, a soft smile playing at the edge of her lips. He'd chosen a better pair of jeans, some comfortable loafers, and his trademark - off-campus leather jacket.

"Nice, Kirk. You clean up well."

He leaned in close to her.

"I do _a lot _of things well. You should let me show you."

As she broke out into laughter at his terrible pass at her, there was a high squeal and his eyes immediately caught a flash of green and red as another face popped up from the stool on the other side of hers.

"Ohh, Uhura, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

He was caught up in a bright white smile as the Orion leaned over her friend to rest her chin on her arm and extend the other.

"Hiii," she drawled. "I'm Gaila…and you are?"

"Kirk. Jim Kirk."

He turned then, to pull at Bones, who was busy ordering bourbon and not paying the least bit of attention to the pretty duo before them.

"And this," he said, tugging on Bones's arm to get him to turn around, "-is Dr. Leonard McCoy, affectionately known as 'Bones.'"

**.**

**.**

They walked the women back to Starfleet and across the Academy campus to their dorms. After they had dropped off Uhura and Gaila, Bones turned to him.

"I'm beat, Jim. I'm turning in. You coming?"

"Nah, go ahead. I'm not really tired."

Bones didn't wait for more and turned, putting his hands in his jacket pockets, and began walking back to their building, leaving Kirk alone with his thoughts.

The night had been good. Booze, bands, two gorgeous women whose company had proven to be intellectually engaging. In fact, he praised himself for not staring at boobs the entire time. (Of course, the Orion hadn't made it easy with a dress that left very little to imagination).

Now, left alone, Kirk wandered around in the crisp night air, staring at the stars. Soon, he'd be up there.

Among them, cruising the cosmos, exploring the galaxy. As a kid, he'd stolen away from his house when his mom was away and Frank had drunk himself into a coma. He'd climb out the window and walk off into the wheat fields with a blanket and lay down to look up at the stars. Back then, he used to see them as a fanciful dream. That dream had never been so close to becoming a reality as it was now.

Damn.

He shook his head, momentarily overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that the cloudless night had brought back to him. That was then, this was now.

It wasn't that late. Only around 0240 and there were others walking back to their rooms too. He could make out the occasional sound of laughter, or a shriek indicating a sudden surprise, and he smiled to himself and walked on.

Increasingly though, his mind turned back to the events that had brought him to this point, and he found that his feet had brought him back to the same bench, in the same place he had been on the night his life actually started turning around for the better.

He stopped, seeing the seat was occupied, before walking forward to the figure on it.

"Hey, Captain Pike."

**.**

**.**

He had been lost in his own thoughts, and hadn't heard the approach until the person that was presently occupying him materialized in the flesh.

This was something that had been bothering Pike for a while, and it had only been within the last few weeks that the _something _became crystal clear to him. He had to back away.

At first, he had told himself it was out of loyalty that he was helping George Kirk's kid. Misplaced feelings of survivor's guilt.

The second lie had been all about living up to one's potential - that he couldn't stand to see that potential wasted. It was a partial truth at best, but it drove him to demand more of Kirk than he was willing to give, at first.

When the younger man had finally fallen asleep on his sofa that night, Pike had told himself it was out of a need to protect him, that he worked so hard for and with Kirk to bring him up to speed- devoting his mornings to combat training, taking Kirk on as his personal assistant in the afternoons, and helping whenever and wherever he could, which, in the case of Kirk, who always seemed to find himself in suspect situations- was more often than not.

But in the last few months, as his protégé had begun to come into his own, Pike realized what his primary motivations were. And they broke every single Starfleet code of conduct there was. Not to mention the fact that the kid probably didn't even see anything was wrong.

Shit.

He was in love with George Kirk's kid. He may have been hit with it the first time he saw him in that greasy Iowa bar, nose busted, eyes bruised. He was attracted though, undeniably. The kid was a fighter, like him. A loner - like him, but ingrained with a strong moral compass that always kept him from going completely over the edge.

The realization had hit him two weeks ago when he was sitting in his office.

The two men were working quietly when Kirk's communicator beeped.

"Kirk here." Pike could distinguish the clearly female voice on the other end as Kirk cast a slightly sheepish glance his way, then rose to walk out into the hall.

Pike didn't need to be psychic to know what was up - he'd been there and done it all before. It wasn't a surprise. Starfleet didn't have rules on fraternization between _cadets_ unless it resulted in a public spectacle. What took Pike by surprise were the intense feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that rose hot and fast to the surface - he also didn't miss the feeling of hurt brewing right below them.

He'd left abruptly that day, not returning until after Kirk left, and only to get his things. He needed to get himself together.

Of all the things the universe had chosen to throw at Christopher Pike - he could never have imagined falling in love with a cadet. Especially Jim Kirk. But he had. Now, he just had to find a way to deal with it.

Somehow.

Which is why he was outside at 0240 sitting in the same place where he'd found Kirk in the wee hours of morning those months ago. Now, their roles were reversed and for the first time, Pike had nothing to say.

* * *

_**Author's Note**: Edited by SpockLikesCats. I apologize for the delay. I am swamped with real life work. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Measure of a Man**

**Chapter 6**

It was awkward. He didn't know whether to greet the captain as his superior officer or if the night warranted a less casual introduction. He opted for something in-between.

"Sir," he said, stopping before his boss.

Pike was seated on the bench, legs played, head thrown back. He hadn't noticed him before, but now, those gray eyes seemed to zero in on him intently.

"At ease, Kirk. It's too damn early in the morning for formalities."

Pike's dry wit made him snicker as the captain waved a hand to him to sit.

Kirk took him up on the offer and both men fell into a contemplative silence as they gazed up at the stars.

"I can't wait to get up there," Kirk whispered to himself.

Pike looked at him out the corner of his eye.

"The final frontier," he said aloud. The trace of bitterness didn't escape Kirk's ears and he turned to look at the captain.

"Sir?"

Pike sighed. "All these young cadets just like you. They come here, to escape to the stars, looking to escape this life - only to find that space hides death, disease, horrors—I used to be like them once, hell I used to be like _you_. I thought I was invincible."

"Then why do you do it?" Kirk asked, genuinely surprised by the captain's confession.

"Why _do_ I do it…" Pike repeated, leaning his head back and looking up at the stars again.

There was no quick answer and a long bout of silence before Pike spoke again.

"Son, what do you know about Tarsus IV?"

**.**

**.**

It was well after 0400 hours when Kirk finally made it back to his room.

As the doors swooshed open he could make out a loud snore and a grunt followed by the squeak of mattress springs and the rustling of sheets. He chuckled to himself quietly. When the doctor was asleep (and judging from the snores from the right side of the room, it was _really_ good sleep) only the blare of a red alert would rouse him.

Kirk shrugged off his jacket, and draped it across the back of one of the desk chairs, then sat down to remove his shoes, socks, then pants, before climbing under the blankets on his bed.

He closed his eyes, but his mind was wide awake.

He hadn't seen Pike that much in the last few weeks. The captain was rarely in his office, and their morning sparring sessions had long since ended. Normally he'd see him on the way to class or popping up at different places randomly, but not recently.

Kirk knew it made no sense, but he couldn't help but feel put off by it. He felt like the captain had been avoiding _him._ Since coming to Starfleet Academy, Kirk had made a lot of acquaintances. He'd been on invite lists and participated in clubs. But when it came down to it, there were only two people he'd considered "friends".

Bones, of course. The good doctor kept him in check, often acting as guardian or, when he knew he was beat - "babysitter".

And Pike.

Pike knew him. At times, he knew him better than he knew himself – which, he found, didn't bother him as much as it should. In fact…

Damn Starfleet regulations. And he knew the Captain was a stickler for them, unless the situation demanded breaking the rules. A part of him wished he WOULD break the rules. The other part warned against entertaining fantasies that wouldn't - no, that COULDN'T happen.

Sometimes, it was too close. Too personal. Too real. In the waking hours, Kirk put it out of his mind. That thing - the desire he felt. He wanted to be close. But when he was alone, or floating between states of consciousness, it came back and consumed him.

He'd tried to find it with other people. Carmyn, Jill, Marcus, Alin, Taral and Nerual (fraternal Carmellian twins) Lynn, Kevin, Lemuer, AjRam…

The further back on the list he went, the less he could remember the names. Sometimes, all he could remember were faces. In select instances - he could just recall the body part - of something that stood out to him that he liked. He couldn't take a count, because he couldn't remember them all. Not that it mattered. He wasn't apologetic about it - in each and every case it had been mutual and thoroughly enjoyable. What he didn't like, was that it never lasted.

He wanted that bond, the intimacy with another person. He craved it - it would make him feel connected to the world, instead of just watching it as a passive observer. He felt a deepening of that bond with Pike.

Now, his eyes had slipped closed and he was breathing deeply. His thoughts floated between conscious and unconscious…and now, the truth came out.

More that a friend. More than a mentor, more than a father, he loved Pike.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Edited by SpockLikesCats_._ Thank you all for taking the time to read and review. I know this story is out the box, so I do appreciate it._


	7. Chapter 7

**Measure of a Man**

**Chapter 7**

A few days before, Pike had received a message from Admiral Morrow. He'd been planet-side now for over a year. At first, this had only been a temporary assignment while he waited on his next deep space mission. But when Command had approached him and he learned WHAT they wanted…he had agreed. After all—who wouldn't want to be Captain of the latest and newest Constitution-class starship?

When he'd first seen her, she was an outline on holograph - a child still in the early stages of gestation. When he'd seen her last…she was a gangly, awkward teenager still trying to come into her own. He knew the next time he would see her, she'd be a woman. And he would be her captain.

He was patient. He could wait for perfection.

In the meantime, he'd taken a teaching position at the academy. And Starfleet had also seen the wisdom of sending one of its senior officers out recruiting. So even though he was planet-side, he was rarely idle. The intermittent off-world "missions" he was sent on helped keep him still - as long as they could get him into space before the restlessness set in, he could deal with it effectively. In many ways, space had become his real home. And Earth was simply a visit.

For several weeks he'd been feeling the urge to get off-planet, but of course, with classes of cadets to teach, he couldn't go anywhere. But now that the semester was complete, and the students were largely gone, he could escape. And he'd needed to, in order to get his own thoughts together - a trip to Risa and beautiful people to keep him occupied. That had been the plan anyway, until … a few days before, when he'd received a message from Admiral Morrow.

He'd been in his office, late at night, when the communications console on his desk had chimed.

"Pike here."

"Captain Pike, I didn't actually expect you to be there so late. Though knowing you, I shouldn't be surprised."

Admiral Morrow was a personal acquaintance of his. They had been at the academy around the same time together, when Pike had just started and Morrow was preparing to graduate. He'd taken some of his more advanced tactical training courses from the Admiral, who at the time, had qualified to be a teacher's aide.

"Ha ha, Harry. What's going on? What can I do for you?" Pike smiled at the image of his friend on the screen.

"We need someone to go to Tarsus IV. It's time for their yearly check-in. Nothing serious - the colony has been doing well, but since you're one of the few officers most familiar with that situation, Command thought to send you. You'll be leaving in a week and it'll take up the remainder of your break to do the check-in."

Tarsus…Pike was silent for a while mulling it over. That was the situation that shown him how cruel the universe could be and had shattered his idealism as a young cadet…

"You're quiet, Chris. I know Tarsus was-"

"I'll go Harry. It's not a problem."

"Good. Because it's not a request."

At Pike's steady, hard look into the comm device, the Admiral leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"It isn't the most pleasant of things. And I know how you feel about it."

Pike waved him off.

"Let's not wax philosophical here. We can't change what happened. So, when do I leave?"

**.**

**.**

Kirk was walking up to the shuttle hanger at 0900 the next morning. He'd thrown some uniforms, including his formal dress, into the duffel, along with a few casual clothes. Pike had told him to pack for at least a week. All he knew was that they were going to Tarsus. He knew a little about the planet.

An ecological plague there thirteen years ago had destroyed most of the food supply for the Tarsus federation colony. Because some unspecified disastrous decision, the lack of food had led to the deaths of half the colonists.

For a while afterward, the federation had declared a sort of martial law there, and it was only within the last five years that a governor had been elected and the colony was finally starting to govern itself once again.

That was according to the Starfleet history books.

But Pike's reference to the planet the other night made Kirk feel that maybe it wasn't the entire truth. Not that he believed everything he read.

History was always scattered with omissions and mis-representations according to the people who wrote it.

So, he was highly curious now.

This would be his first trip of any significant length off-world - forgetting the fact that he was born in space.

Kirk spotted Pike standing next to a shuttle craft talking to one of the commanders and signing a Padd and trotted over.

"Cadet Kirk, nice of you to join me this morning. Throw your stuff in and grab a seat. We'll be taking off shortly," Pike said, turning his attention back to the commander, who was presently going over the flight plan.

He did as ordered, walking to the other side of the shuttle and opening the door to the cockpit. He threw his duffle into the back where there were two parallel rows with three seats each.

Sliding in, he ran his hand along the smooth contours of the control panel, recognizing each function instantly from his studies in flight mechanics.

Next semester he'd start training in the simulators - a requirement for all command-track cadets. The sleek steel-gray material and gentle vibrations coming from the machine's motor made him want to fly it _now_.

"Buckle up, Kirk," Pike said as he slid into the pilot's chair. Kirk watched as he reached over and began to key directions into the console. The doors slid closed with a hiss and their cabin began to pressurize. Soon, they were piloting out of the shuttle hangar and up. He looked out of the windows to watch as Starfleet, and then San Francisco, began to grow smaller and smaller as they rose. Soon they were breaking the clouds and after a jolt, they were clearing the atmosphere and breaking out into the stars.

* * *

_***Author's Note:** Edited by SpockLikesCats_


	8. Chapter 8

***Author's Note: This chapter is rated "M" for male-male sexual relations. **

**

* * *

Measure of a Man**

**Chapter 8 **

They stepped out of the shuttlecraft and into an artificial bio-dome atmosphere. The outside landscape was a barren wasteland of small rugged shrubs scattered across miles of empty, dry earth. When they had begun their descent, Kirk had spied the ruins of an old city.

Inside the dome, the air smelled fresh. There were plants and flowers interspersed among the buildings and outcroppings.

It was an artificial atmosphere, but humid. The humanoids around them bustled to and fro about their business, seemingly oblivious to the dichotomy of the place they presently inhabited, and that of the outside.

"Captain Pike?" Kirk had retrieved his duffle bag and was coming around the side of the shuttle craft when a tall, slim man with a bald head approached him. He had a friendly face, and light grey eyes.

He walked up to them and shook their hands.

"I'm Omnis, the head of the Tarsunian Council. Starfleet Command told us you'd be arriving. Welcome, Captain Pike, welcome. Please, come this way."

"Thank you, Omnis. This is Cadet James T. Kirk. He's acting as my Aide on this expedition."

Omnis bowed to Kirk and offered a similarly formal greeting. Pike began walking as Omnis turned to guide them, and Kirk brought up the rear.

As soon as the three men exited the terminal, a smaller hovercraft pulled up to greet them. They each got in and Kirk watched the scenes pass - houses, stores, each with small gardens in-between. Soon they passed into the main city where the buildings became a little taller, traffic a little thicker. The hovercraft stopped and Omnis got out. They followed as he escorted them to a small building and held the door while they entered.

"This is where you will be staying. Your rooms are on the third floor, numbers 323 and 324. The reception is this evening at 1800. Please feel free to explore the city. You will find that Tarsus is not the same as it once was."

With that, Omnis exited, leaving the two of them to take a lift to their rooms.

"This is Tarsus?" Kirk inquired once they were alone.

"Yes, it is." Pike responded.

"Excuse me, sir, but why is there a bio-dome on the planet? Exploration studies have marked it class-M and capable of sustaining life," Kirk asked.

"Yes. Technically, it _is_ a class-M planet. However, presently, the only life it's capable of sustaining is enclosed in the bio-dome," Pike replied, calmly.

"But WHY sir?" he was growing tired of the captain answering his questions indirectly and he wanted to know the truth.

"It's a long story."

Just then, the lift stopped and they stepped out onto their floor.

They were apparently also the only visitors at the hotel, but it didn't matter. They walked down the hall to the adjacent rooms. Before he could enter his own, Pike called, "Be dressed - casual attire at 1600. We need to get to work. Meet me in the lobby."

With that, the Captain went into his room and Kirk entered his. He was standing in the lobby at 1555.

**.**

**.**

They walked around a crowded market place full of vendors and shoppers engaged in various stages of commerce, buying fruits and vegetables, wares for homes, cloth - whatever could be needed was sold.

There was bartering, there were exchanges done in credits and others in federation-issued credits.

The place teemed with life. It was loud and boisterous, and busy.

Pike and Kirk threaded their way through the crowded rows full of stalls. Kirk wandered around while Pike stopped to chat with the vendors and passers-by. Soon he found himself down a secondary alley much darker and less crowded.

It was also quieter.

As he walked he began to notice people peeking out from behind their stalls to look at him, and after a moment, he couldn't take the mysteriousness of it all and simply walked up to an older woman with long gray hair wrapped around her head in a messy hive-formation.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," he said, trying to get her attention. She was currently bent over what looked like a box of vegetables that were on the verge of going well past their expiration date. She turned to un-bend her body, but it didn't get quite that straight.

"Yes? Did you want some vegetables? I have some here, you see. Two credits each potato. They're growing again - just got them out a week ago. Don't let the look fool you, they're hearty. Two credits?"

"No - no thank you ma'am. I was actually just trying to figure out - growing _again, _you say?" he asked as her words sunk in.

"Yes, just got them out of the ground a week ago."

'You mean, they weren't growing before?"

"No. This is the first time we've seen them. The stock was destroyed 15 years ago…you don't know?"

"Know what?" he asked gently, trying to disguise his impatience for answers.

"The famine. Fifteen years ago - it destroyed everything. This is the first time -"

"Kirk!"

"Kirk!"

_Shit_. Just as he was about to press on with questioning the woman, his communicator began to chirp.

Pike was looking for him.

Quickly, he pulled out his credit chit and handed it to the old woman who swiped it for two credits and offered him a potato.

He thanked her, but didn't take the potato and turned to head back out of the alley. A famine? That most certainly wasn't in the Starfleet texts. The questions began to grow.

But, he didn't have time to ask them before it was time to go to the reception.

**.**

**.**

By the time they arrived at the event, Kirk was struggling to keep quiet and just follow. He was bored by the quiet talks and the formal atmosphere, with constantly having to shake hands, and more than a little irritated by the high collar of his dress uniform, but at the castigating glances Pike threw his way (he knew better than to display his anxiousness, and instead turned his focus to blending and mixing), he smiled, and nodded and when asked questions, and asked a few harmless ones of his own.

Around 2100 hours, the reception ended and Omnis escorted them back from the council chambers to their hotel.

Afterwards, he and Pike sat around filing reports for Starfleet. But after a few minutes of working side-by-side on their Padds in Pike's quarters, he couldn't hold his silence any longer.

"Sir. I need to know - what is wrong with this planet?"

He stopped, waiting as Pike looked at him, and slowly closed his Padd.

"Let's go for a walk."

**.**

**.**

"You want to make Captain, son?" Pike asked as they strolled along darkened streets illuminated by lamps. The place was so peaceful. Almost too peaceful - like a planned community created out of some warped vision of perceived perfection. There were no people on the streets - only them.

"Yes, sir. I do."

"Why?"

At the question, he fell silent, pondering the answer. "Because I can do the job. Because I can handle the pressure. Because - because…"

They approached the edge of the bio-dome and Kirk could look out through the clear, insulated material into the darkened, sere land lit only by stars.

"Because what, son?" Pike turned to him and looked at him expectantly.

"I—I don't know." he finished lamely.

The captain paused a moment to study him and then turned back to the transparent wall. At their approach, a door slid open, and they walked through it.

Kirk immediately felt the chilly night air as they stepped outside, and began walking out into the barren landscape before them.

Neither man spoke for several minutes as they trudged across the dirt. Kirk didn't know where the captain was leading him, but knew whenever Pike was in a pensive mood, it was best to follow. Whatever the captain wanted to say, he would say, when he felt the time was right.

After walking for about two miles, they came upon the ruins Kirk had seen earlier when they had made their initial descent onto the planet from the shuttle craft.

At first, he had thought them to be the remains of an ancient civilization, but as they walked through what obviously used to be an outpost - now an ugly, twisted mass of sheet metal and stone - he realized the damage was far more recent than he'd thought.

Pike had stopped and had settled on a once-white column now broken and splintered, lying on its side, covered in layers of dirt, the markings of a fire still etched on it. It may have been a transmitter of some sort. Kirk was speechless as he walked around what once was clearly a settlement compound.

The evidence was still there - a piece of old equipment, the remnants of a housing unit - dishes, forks…and, as he looked inside a hollowed-out space at the far end, he saw something that sent chills down his spine - a broken crib - with the mobile spinning in the night's breeze, creating the haunting tinkle of musical notes through the air.

He backed up quickly and headed immediately back to Pike, who still sat atop the old transmitter tower, looking at the scene quietly.

"Sir, what happened here?"

"You want to be a captain, Kirk? _This_ is what it means to be a captain," Pike said, waving a hand across the ruins.

"This is Tarsus. Fifteen years ago, a plague killed off most of the vegetation on this planet - including the food supply. Four thousand people died here. Four thousand lives we couldn't save. Four thousand more we did…"

His voice trailed off and Pike looked out onto the ruins surrounding them.

The wind had begun to whip up, blowing the dry desert dirt up around them.

"Starfleet sent my ship to investigate and offer assistance. But we arrived too late. Governor Kodos had already issued the kill directive. Kill four thousand to save four thousand…men, women, children. This entire plaza was covered in blood. The people thrown into a mass grave."

What happened to Kodos, Captain?" Kirk whispered, his eyes wider at the story Pike told. _This _wasn't in the history books - it wasn't in the official records either. But he understood Pike's message clearly.

"He was killed. We found his burned body over there -" Pike pointed to the large, circular stone slab in the middle of the ruins covered with layers of dirt.

"I was just like you, Kirk. Young. Idealistic. Naïve. It was my first deep-space mission as an ensign aboard the Endeavor…" Pike turned to look directly at him and threw his legs over the downed tower and jumped off, walking briskly to stand directly in front of him.

Kirk met his captain's steely gaze as the older man looked at him.

"You want to be a Starfleet Captain. The first thing you need to know is you won't be able to save everyone. You _will_ lose at times. And at others, in winning, you'll wish you'd lost. This is a sacrifice, Jim. Are you willing to make that sacrifice?"

He didn't wait for an answer. Not that Kirk had one to give. But he understood. The captain began walking off, and Kirk followed as they left the ruined site and began the three-mile trek back to the bio-dome.

The tension faded as they walked back in companionable silence.

Kirk once again felt that connection to his superior officer that seemed to surge with greater frequency and force - and he felt—longing. He looked up to see Pike's form in front of him - the tall frame, and wide shoulders, sculpted back…firm, yet supple - the kind of man Kirk _wanted_ to be. The kind of man Kirk wanted to be _with_. The pang of remorse was equally strong, and this time, it didn't surprise him - just reminded him of what he could not, and would not have.

**.**

**. **

The trip to the ruins was necessary, Pike told himself as they re-entered the bio-dome and walked back to their rooms. This job was not for the weak. It was not for the arrogant. It was pain, and sacrifice and failure. Kirk needed to learn. He needed to _know_ if he was ever meant to become a captain.

But it was more than that.

Tarsus was something Pike never talked about. What had happened on that planet had haunted him throughout his career. It was what drove him. What fueled his passion. He had long ago accepted the fact that there was nothing he as an individual could have done to save those people. But knowing that never made it any easier to deal with. Every man had that _one thing_ that drove or motivated him. Pike's work as a Starfleet Captain was driven because he wanted to save lives - his own way of honoring the memories of those that he couldn't save.

He had told Kirk this because he wanted to save him. He wanted to save himself.

And strangely, their excursion to the ruins was a _relief_.

Pike turned to address his protégé before entering his adjacent room. "I'll see you in the morning, Kirk. 0800." Kirk nodded quietly and the two men parted ways. Once his door swooshed closed, Pike began undressing - removing the stiff grey jacket and slipping off his black boots, leaving him in the dark grey pants and black Starfleet t- shirt. He walked to the small kitchenette in the bedroom and opened a refresher that held a bottle of the whisky he'd picked up earlier from the market.

After pouring himself a flask, he sat down in an oversized chair and sipped his drink, lost in his own thoughts and feelings.

**.**

**.**

Kirk sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he mulled the events of the evening. What he wanted he couldn't have. What he needed was off limits and if ever there was a perfect time and opportunity - this was it. But the stakes were too high. There was too much to lose and it could never, would never…

**.**

**.**

Somewhere between the first sip of whisky and the bottom end of the glass, he'd made up his mind. Actually, his mind had come to the conclusion on his own. He needed Kirk. But it was time to stop bullshitting himself. He couldn't afford to be direct. All he could do was test the waters - to see if it was even possible.

Still, he had to try. If he didn't, it would be yet another regret in a sea of many he'd have to live with.

The knock at the door broke him out of his thoughts.

**.**

**.**

The door to his room opened and Kirk stood face-to-face with Pike. His heart rate automatically increased. It was late at night, and the captain didn't have on his jacket. Still, he refused to hope…

"Sir, may I enter?"

Pike stepped back from the door quickly. "Come on in."

He walked in and the door swooshed close, leaving the two of them.

"You know, I'm not in uniform. And you don't always have to call me 'sir.'" Pike said, taking a seat on the chair opposite the bed.

Kirk relaxed a bit, and followed the cue.

"Want a drink?" Pike produced a flask that Kirk hadn't noticed he'd been holding and moved toward the small kitchenette unit that held two glasses, one already half-full. He filled both up with the caramel-colored liquid then handed one to him.

"Thanks," Kirk grinned and quickly tipped his back, allowing the golden liquid to glaze his throat. It burned so good, setting his body on fire as it snaked its seductive way down his system.

The captain leaned back in his chair as Kirk finished off his glass and set it down. The brown liquid began working its hypnotic way through his body.

"Watch out- it's potent." Pike said, watching.

**.**

"Thanks… for being here, with me - for me. Tarsus is…." Pike looked at Kirk, then at his liquor, and took another drink. "It's an emblem of failure … catastrophic failure. Men like us- we're married to our career. Duty is our lover. We have to give up…" Pike faltered, his voice trailing off.

"Did you give it up?" Kirk asked, leaning forward slightly. The captain's gaze was long and steady on him as Kirk waited for a reply.

"Everything," Pike said, after what felt like an eternity.

The air unit had long since shut off, plunging the room into a silence that screamed with double- meaning.

Later on, he would think back on it - and realize that this was the moment that had changed everything between them. It was his nature to be impulsive, to leap without looking. It was something Pike had commented on the moment they first met, in that pissy- ass bar in Iowa. And something Pike had not done himself, for many, many years.

It was a moment, and a chance, and a risk, and Jim took it.

His body moved on its own accord, bringing him over to Pike's seated position on the chair. He reached out his hand as if asking permission to express a desire he could not vocalize. Pike took Jim's open hand and raised it to his lips. Kirk's eyes slipped closed as he moved in to get closer as Pike's lips grazed his open palm, sending a rush of heat down his spine to coil deep in his belly.

It was more than he could imagine, more than he could have dreamed but it was real. So very, very real and he could feel it.

They stood up together, bodies pressed together as Pike's lips met his in a bruising but welcome and needed kiss. Jim's body went to "autopilot," the movement familiar to his anatomy an age-old dance ingrained in his biology. A large hard hand clasped his ass as they both worked to remove the barriers that separated them; piece by piece, they fell away, littering the floor in a trail that followed in their wake.

He was naked and bare, more exposed to another than he'd ever been in his life and he could feel - no, he _knew_ that he was not the only one and that this would go far deeper than any of his previous one-night stands. This wouldn't be a casual romp, but neither could it last; still, he would savor every moment - just as he savored the feel of a warm embrace wrapping itself around his manhood as he followed suit, allowing himself to feel the desire of the man atop him.

**.**

**.**

He wanted this. He needed this. For once, Chris Pike relinquished control. Letting warm lips loosen his inhibitions - and indulging himself in the force that was Jim Kirk.

Naked flesh against naked flesh, their bodies came together, closer and closer. Chris groaned with desire as his hand snaked its way down, down, until he met success in the form of a hot, smooth, phallus that jumped as his fingers grazed the silken hardness and closed around it.

Kirk grunted against his mouth as they fell onto the bed. He was lost in the feel of skin and sweat as Kirk grabbed his manhood and began to stroke - long fingers closing around Pike's shaft sent waves of pleasure coursing through his loins, setting his nerves on edge.

Each stroked the other, bringing mutual pleasure as their rhythm increased into a crescendo of a hot, hard release that left them both panting, and groaning as they met satisfaction in the hands of another.

He kissed a trail across Kirk's clavicle as he positioned himself atop, using the natural lubricants of their mutual masturbation to ease the penetration.

His efforts met approval with a deep groan as his partner granted him permission, and he accepted.

**.**

**.**

He felt Pike pushing gently, then more insistently as his body resisted, then gave in - the sensation of a pleasurable burn engulfing him - causing his body to shudder as a grunt and then a groan, faint then growing louder at Pike's insistence escaped his mouth. With a shout of his own, Pike's body folded onto his and he was immersed in the feeling of _fullness_… their breathing was uneven, harsh and heavy as they lay like that for a while, until Pike began to push.

The pressure began to build with every movement made as Pike rocked into him, slowly, then gradually speeding up, harder, faster and deeper…each movement more intensely felt than the last until they couldn't take it anymore. The sounds of their climax echoed through the sound-proofed walls bouncing back to their own ears, a private moment between two men to be shared, and never forgotten.


	9. Chapter 9

**Measure of A Man**

**Chapter 9**

"So, what now?" The night was still high overhead as they lay side by side on the bed in after-sex. Kirk's breathing had resumed its even pace and now he stared up at the ceiling, letting his mind drift.

On his right side, the bed shifted.

"I'm still your superior officer." Pike's voice was low and raspy.

Kirk shifted to his side so that he could face his captain. In the dim lights of the room, Pike's face was ruddy and slightly flushed. His hair was a mess, but even naked, the man had _bearing._ Although he was a good three-plus decades older, his body was still in peak condition, his chest still sculpted and lightly furred, rife with scars from unknown battles.

Kirk closed his eyes listening to the sound of their breathing. It was a while before they spoke again.

"Look, kid. I...I care about you. I don't want you to think I used you. But men like us…like I said before. It's a sacrifice we make to do what we do."

"Well. I'm not exactly the 'commitment' type," Kirk laughed quietly under his breath and opened his eyes, to see Pike staring at him intently.

"I picked that up a while ago," the older man said drily.

The sardonic tone caught him and he immediately felt chastised.

"What I meant to say is," he backtracked quickly, "I wanted this. I wanted it too. It wasn't just you. It's not just you. But I'm a grown-up. I know what can and can't happen."

Pike rolled around to his back and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

"We need a plan."

"Yeah."

They drifted off again, each contemplating their situation and what they could—should-do about it.

Their solution was mutual.

"When we're on duty, we're _on_. When we're off, we're off. And we're off Academy grounds. No one asks-we don't tell. We don't give anybody a _clue_. This is between us. Stays with us."

"Are we-" Kirk's words trailed off.

"I'm gonna be honest. I can't commit. And neither can you. It's our life. Our destiny. It is what it is."

"Yeah, I guess so. So we enjoy it now, while we have it."

This time, when Kirk rolled over he was met by a warm mouth and a large hand pulling at his hair and tugging him closer. It was a done deal.

It was them. And they preferred it that way.

* * *

_***Author's Note:** I know this chapter is short, however that is intentional. It is meant to stand alone. The next chapter, Chapter 10 will close out this story. Again, this work has been edited by SpockLikesCats. _


	10. Chapter 10

***Final Chapter.**

**

* * *

**

**Measure of A Man**

**Chapter 10**

**Two years later**

This time, he was _sure_ he had it. This time his plan wouldn't fail. He'd tried this damn test twice and failed it twice. This time, the scheme was foolproof. His plan was in place—with a bit of … suggestion and a mid-afternoon romp with a gorgeous emerald-skinned redhead.

Kirk sat in the command chair, while his crew prepped at their stations in the testing module.

He unconsciously raised a hand to his face, taking a breath of that sweet, musky scent that was still on his fingers from about fifteen minutes before. He looked up into the clear glass panel overhead where the testing administrators were and caught a flash of green and red.

This time, he'd win. Failure was not an option.

"Activation of the Kobayashi Maru commencing in five …"

The ambient voice filtered to their room, and everyone snapped to attention, shifting as the lights began to dim around them and the screen before them came alive with a too-convincingly real display of space and stars.

"Four …"

"Three …"

"Two …"

One …"

Beep…beep…peep.

All around, the consoles began to light up and glow as the simulation came alive and his team began working frantically. From behind him a feminine voice, laced with sarcasm, called out.

"The Kobayashi Maru is stranded and it's signaling for assistance."

He swiveled around.

Uhura. Ever since he met her, he'd been chasing her. It was a fruitless pursuit; both of them knew it, but even if she wouldn't admit it, he knew she enjoyed their verbal tussles just as much as he enjoyed finding new ways to annoy her. One day, he'd get that first name …

"They're firing on us sir!"

That was Jameson. He was a tactical major in several of Kirk's classes. Right now he was sitting on the right of the "captain," his eyes glued to several screens in front of him as the simulator shook with the "impact" of missiles being fired from the three Klingon warbirds that had appeared before them on the screen.

Kirk relaxed in his chair, gap-legged.

"Eh, it's okay."

A snort came from his immediate left.

Bones. The doc was scoffing and rolling his eyes.

"Should we…oh I don't know, _fire back_?"

"Nah. It's fine." He grinned at his friend while casting a glance at his wrist…any minute now….

A little light lit up.

Victory was near. The horse had succeeded at the gates.

Two more hits made the simulator shake a little more.

"Alright, fire now." he said casually.

"Captain, their shields are still up!" Jameson called, his fingers working quickly across his console, his brown face glowing blue from the illuminated screens before him.

"Are they?"

Jameson looked back down at his readouts.

"No. They've dropped shields!" he called excitedly.

"Fire photon torpedoes, one each. Don't wanna waste ammo." Kirk replied brandishing an apple from an undisclosed location and polishing it on the front of his suit.

He and his crew watched the monitor as their torpedoes found their targets - each warbird evaporating before their eyes.

"Whooo!"

The cheers were loud as his fellow cadets congratulated each other, slapping hands and clapping - relishing their victory over the un-winnable situation.

Kirk just smiled, as he took the first bite, savoring the loud crunch.

Failure. It just wasn't an option. Especially when there was a perfectly viable solution.

**.**

**.**

His celebration was short-lived.

It was bad enough to be dragged before his entire class and hear the charges against him.

It was worse, when he found himself losing a battle of semantics against an unknown assailant who also happened to be some hot-shot favorite son of the Admiralty _and_ the person who created the supposedly un-winnable test.

But it hurt like hell, when Pike wouldn't even look at him.

"Cheating isn't winning," the captain had said, as he turned his back on him and walked away, joining the rest of the mass of bodies moving rapidly out of the hall.

Pike's voice was flat. But the words were so pointed, that Kirk felt lower than he had in years. The one person he'd admired, the one person he respected the most…

"Come on kid, you heard the orders." Bones came up behind him and pushed him forward. He stumbled blindly, still in shock at all that had happened, feeling guilt and shame surge within him.

**.**

**.**

He had failed Pike once before. He wouldn't – _couldn't_, do so again. He'd turn this ship around with his bare hands if he had too. But "NO" was not an option.

"Spock, don't _do_ that. Running back to the rest of the fleet for a, a, a confab is a massive waste of time!

"...orders issued by Captain Pike when he left...

" - He also ordered us to go back and get him. Spock, you are captain now! You have to be—"

" I am aware of my responsibilities, Mister...

" Every second we waste, Nero's getting closer to his next target."

" That is correct and why I am instructing you to accept the fact that I alone...

" I will NOT allow us to go backwards!"

**.**

**.**

They had done it. Nero's ship had disappeared into a gaping, cavernous black hole.

He looked around the bridge at the crew. _His _crew. They had escaped the impossible. Some had even cheated death.

He should feel proud. Victorious.

But there was nothing to celebrate.

Six billion Vulcans, dead. Because they had been too late.

A mother, leaving a son orphaned and a father a widower.

Brothers, sisters, sons, daughters—slaughtered. An entire fleet, decimated.

There was no time to grieve for the dead.

The distress call had been sent 5 hours ago. With their warp core gone, they would need assistance from Starfleet to come and get them. They had at least 36 hours before help would arrive.

There were no available quarters. The crew had given theirs to the survivors. People piled three and four to a cabin, sometimes more. No one complained.

It should have been loud. Instead, there was silence.

He walked down the hall toward the sickbay. The doors parted at his approach.

Sickbay was eerily silent as well. Every cot and available parcel was filled with a body.

So was the ship's morgue.

His footsteps echoed across the floor, still stained with blood as a lone orderly worked quietly to clean the grisly reminders.

The path he'd chosen took his feet to the far end of the room, where a still figure lay on one of the makeshift cots the staff had speedily assembled.

The captain's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in succession with the machine by his side. Each breath corresponding with a beep on the monitor, and a spike on the graph.

_You want to be a Starfleet Captain. The first thing you need to know is you won't be able to save everyone. You will lose at times. And at others, in winning, you'll wish you'd lost._

For the first time, he understood what Pike had been trying to say.

They would never be the same.

He'd wanted it for all the wrong reasons. The fame. The glory. The fun. The adventure.

Not anymore. It was his calling. And he finally accepted.

**.**

**.**

"This assembly calls Captain James T. Kirk…."

The assembly hall was awash in a sea of red. But even at that moment, it was still only half-full. The empty chairs a physical reminder of all that was lost.

Still, there was triumph in the absence. Defiance- they'd been bent, but they had not been broken. Each of them would carry the experience forever. It was a part of them. For some, it was them.

Like it was for him.

From the high podiums in front of the room, Admiral Barnett began to speak.

"_Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades is in keeping with the highest traditions of service,.."_

Sacrifice.

"_- and to reflect utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation, it is my honor to award you with this commendation…"  
_

Sacrifice, is what George Kirk did to save his family, and his crew…

"_By Starfleet Order two-eight four five five …"_

Sacrifice is what Pike did to save a world…

From the antechamber, he heard the mechanical whir of a wheel chair grow closer, as _his_ Admiral moved to sit beside him.

"… _you are hereby directed to report to Admiral Pike, USS Enterprise, for duty as his relief."_

The former Captain, now Admiral, looked up at him, his face somber, but his eyes smiling – there was a mix of ruefulness and friendship there.

Friend. Mentor. Brother. _Lover._

"I relieve you, sir."

Pike studied him intently for a long moment, before nodding slowly.

"I am relieved."

_**Sacrifice**_**.**

_What he did, what __**they**__ had done…_

_To save a galaxy_.

* * *

_***Author's Note:** Thank you to my editor, **SpockLikesCats**, who sat up with me through late nights and tons of coffee to edit, argue, re-edit, erase, and start again multiple times. A thanks to **TeaOli **and **Aphrodite319 **who provided the catalyst for this fic. I Of all of the Star Trek stories I've written, I consider this a personal best. There was a lot of frustration, anger, and energy devoted to this. Thank you to **VickyFromGreece**, who's encouragement kept a smile on my face. And thank you to the women of WA who told me to keep writing even when all I wanted to do was hit the erase button permanently. Thanks to everyone who has taken, or will take the time to read and review. Every one is greatly appreciated. This is my last Star Trek story for a while. _


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